


I could get some work down (if you weren’t so attractive)

by gaily-daily (passionateartist)



Category: Victor Frankenstein (2015)
Genre: I REGRET NOTHING, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passionateartist/pseuds/gaily-daily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor has never had to deal with a problem like this before. His one and only enjoyment in life had always been his work. But now it seems it has a contender.</p><p>OR </p><p>In which Victor can’t keep his hands off of Igor long enough to actually get any work done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I could get some work down (if you weren’t so attractive)

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHO WENT BACK TO SEE THE MOVIE A SECOND TIME?!

Victor runs his nose across the valley of Igor’s skin. Over and over the ghost of his breath traces across the muscles connecting the shoulder to neck to throat. This was his favorite place. Victor places small kisses up his partner’s throat, suckling across the jaw, and back down again. His hands are wrapped tightly around the other man as he licks Igor’s collarbone. He’s rewarded with a soft moan and Victor smirks. He loves all the noises, both little and big, that he can effortlessly pull from him.

For all his natural life, science had been his only love. Victor had always put his all into his life’s work, he can’t remember a time when he hadn’t. The advancement of science took priority above all. It was the single most important thing to him.

Until Igor.

Victor strokes down Igor’s back and grips the muscle of his buttocks in one hand. He massages the flesh there while letting a finger poke at the trembling hole. Igor sucks in his breath and arches beautifully into his hands. Victor follows the other down to the floor and leans in to nuzzle his neck once more. He breathes him in again and _oh_ —this was definitely his favorite place.

Make no mistake, Victor was not a celibate man, he merely preferred work over silly courtship. However, while he did enjoy sex, this has been escalating to the point where it was beginning to be a problem. A very frustrating and confounding problem. You see, most people were too intellectually inferior for Victor to bother acquainting himself with, and even then his work far more important than a simple night of pleasure. Over active libidos was one of the reasons why the human race had such slow progress in advancing itself as a species—everyone was too busy having sex to put their brain cells to any real use.

And yet, here he was. Once again neglecting his work in favor of—whatever this was. He wasn’t exactly sure. He tries to remember what he was doing before, but everything is too fuzzy past the haze. Everything melts into a dusty blur when Igor kisses him. Igor becomes his center of focus, his focal point.

Victor carefully undoes the straps to the back brace, wanting desperately to lick and bite every inch of Igor’s marvelously flawed body. Igor whines, stretching his hands up and pushing at Victor’s shoulders.

“Don’t be like that,” Victor chuckles down at him, “It’s not like you’re going to be standing up anytime soon afterward.”

Igor raises a brow accenting his beautiful blue eyes. Victor sees a challenge reflected there and he grins.

“Is that so?” Igor says. And then, with a surprising amount of upper body strength, pushes Victor off of him and rolls them both over until he’s the one on top.

Igor leans in, grabbing at Victor’s wrists and pulling them over his head. “Tell me again, which one of us won’t be able to walk straight?”

Victor smirks, relaxing in Igor’s hold and rolling his hips up to brush their erections together. Frankly he’s surprised neither of them have taken off their pants yet. They usually get to it a lot quicker than this. He should probably start stocking lube around the house since he’s too impatient to wait until they get to the bedroom.

Impatient. It just about summed up everything Victor Frankenstein was. Too impatient to deal with the idiots at school, too impatient to buy fresh animal parts so he steals them, too impatient for sleep when there was science to be done...

It was strange having his attention torn away from his work. It was odd in all manners of speaking because was unprecedented. But time and time again Victor somehow can’t keep his focus anymore. Not with such a bright and intelligent certain someone working alongside him. And his hands, the hands of a surgeon, with such deft and skill [oh god he wants to ride them until he passes out...]

Day in and day out Igor works alongside him until he can’t take it anymore. Victor snaps like the stretch of a rubber band across sensitive skin. For the more he tries to pull away the harder he comes crashing back; with full force and more desperate than the last. 

He can’t for the life of him remember what he was doing before this. Before the ache and the burn and Igor’s blind trust in him poured out between their tongues. He can’t remember past the rattle in his bones and the shaking in his knees. But Victor remembers Igor, oh yes he remembers. The shy smiles and fleeting stares across the table between beakers and wires and open anatomy books. 

Victor can’t work without him. But lately it seems he can’t possibly work with him either. At least not in the same room.

Igor eases himself down onto Victor, clenching and unclenching his muscles and trying not to forget how to breathe. He feels the sting of having another man inside him and swallows. They’ve done this before, but Igor will never get used to the feeling of being connected to this man, his partner.

It’s starting to get to the point where he can tell when Victor has had enough. Through the long hours of nonstop work he’ll start to fidget, start to stare. He’ll start to rub his temples and grumble when his mind starts losing focus. Igor will never tell, but the fact that he distracts such a dedicated man is extremely flattering. He likes making Victor this way, stealing his attention. He likes being looked at as if he’s the center of the entire world. 

Igor had never known another’s touch before this. And how could he? He’d been a hunchback all his life; a dirty circus clown that no one cared for. No one would want that in their bed. But that didn’t mean he was ignorant about it. He’d witnessed plenty of things behind the curtain flaps of the circus tents. He’s heard their sighs and their whispers, their moans and kisses. He’s familiar with the slap of flesh and the scream of an orgasm. 

Victor touches him with a gentleness that he’s never known before. 

Victor touches him with a fierce wanton need that he’s never known before. 

Victor touches him. And he touches him. He molds Igor into whatever shape suits him best at the moment and Igor’s fine with that. He’s never trusted anyone this much before. He’d do anything Victor asked of him, anything.

Every single time, no matter how many times, when Victor gets that predatory look in his eye across the room, when he stares just a little too long, when their mouths crash and clothes are ripped off, Igor is always too overwhelmed to stay silent. His jaw loosens, his breathes quicken, and he screams until there’s nothing left in his lungs except the steady exhales of Victor’s breath. It fills him up to the point he’s positive that he finally understands the saying ‘dying from happiness’ because his heart is beating too fast and his organs feel like they’re bursting through his skin. And when he’s nothing but a pile of flesh, Victor will reach down and stitch him back together again.

Igor comes with a cry and a shudder. He always comes first. Victor grips his hips tightly and shoves up a few more times before gasping a few incoherent words and sinking back down to the floor. He sighs and his body seems to melt into the floorboards. Igor rolls off of him and follows suit. They lie there, catching their breath and pressed against one another.

“I think we should start working in separate rooms.” Victor wheezes out, not even bothering to open his eyes just yet.

“Yeah alright.” Igor agrees. 

Neither of them end up going back to work. Round two and three take them to the bedroom where they spend the rest of the day without sparing a thought to the forgotten project still lying on the table.


End file.
